As I mentioned previously, if aliens infect Earth with a deadly virus a high white blood cell count could immunize me from their dastardly intentions. Being immune I would be free to mount a super hero offense, saving humanity.
I am ready.
A normal white blood cell count is between 4.4 and 11.0. After my last $5999.00 super shot my count us up to an eye popping 21.8.
I am invincible. Bring on the virus.
I am now completely over the nasty side effects of my last Super Duper Chemo treatment. Now I’m just living with the annoying fatigue of the Picard refills. But those are almost done.
There is only one more Picard refill to go, then he gets disconnected on August 11th.
Surgery isn’t going to be scheduled until sometime in mid September, so I will have about a month off.
Well, I sort of have a month off. I still have to get an endoscopic ultrasound and a PET scan. Both require fasting and are less that pleasant, but they are endurable.
The ultrasound is so the surgeon knows how much the tumor has shrunk so he has a better idea of what he is dealing with. The PET scan is to confirm the cancer hasn’t spread and the surgery is still worth bothering with.
During that time before surgery I intend to crank up my exercise program to get as fit and healthy as possible. Hopefully that will enable me to get through the surgery and recovery with minimum of hassle.
Once that is over, it’s just another nine weeks of chemotherapy and I’m done.
Piece of cake.
Yea, right.
It seems that just yesterday you were starting chemotherapy. Now, you’re speaking of the end of the first nine weeks.
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It’s progress although each minute feels like a decade when you’re actually in the process of receiving treatment.
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My mother-in-law had this saying, which I found rather trite at first. “This, too, shall pass,” she would say. And, it does pass. Not as quickly as one might like, but there is an end in sight.
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Gary, I so look forward to the day when all of this is just a blurred memory, when the details of your treatment have faded into obscurity, when all of this is nothing more than a battle scar.
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Piece of wild blackberry pie.
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Not exactly.
With only two more weeks chemo to go the primary battle is my remaining hair follicles vs the chemo. The hair is getting extremely thinned out, but isn’t quite bad enough to shave off. In a few weeks new hair should start growing, which makes it a shame to shave it off now. After all, the remaining hairs will soon have new baby sisters and brothers to keep them company.
Don’t worry too much about the hair. By Christmas you can probably still play Santa with the long beard. Creative use of hats may always be an option?
Best of everything to you!
The mustache never stopped growing and the beard only thinned. I figure I probably have as much hair as I do because I started out with so much of it. We’ll see what’s left by Christmas, but I’m not too worried about it.
Everyone here at Robin’s Roost Ranch thinks you are amazing.
If the aliens invade Earth, and if they spread a deadly virus, and if the $5999.00 white blood cell booster shot protects me from the alien virus, and if I have the abilities required of a super hero to save the planet, then I will be amazing. There are a lot of “an ifs” in that sentence. However, if all those “and ifs” turn out to be true, I will concede that I am amazing.
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As for the other stuff, I’m just taking one day at a time while doing the next thing. Which, as you can see, is merely a couple of cliché strung together.
There’s a reason that they become cliches.
That’s true. When you’re caught between a rock and a hard place, and you know not to push your luck, it’s best to remember that laughter is the best medicine.